


Stitches

by Sol_Morales707



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aftercare, Akechi Goro Lives, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Choking, Dry Humping, Dry Sex, Feels, Fights, Hair-pulling, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Makeup Sex, Nursing, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Porn With Plot, Rivalry, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Self-Lubrication, Spit As Lube, Top Akechi Goro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25777597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sol_Morales707/pseuds/Sol_Morales707
Summary: After their brawl in Mementos, Akira Kurusu and Goro Akechi patch each other up.But some wounds can’t be mended with stitches.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 12
Kudos: 204





	Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> My second Goro/Akira fic 💜 hope you enjoy!
> 
> I finished playing P5R so I'll come back with something new (someday).
> 
> Beware a bit of spoilers for Goro's confidant! Pretty minor, but just in case.

When Goro whips out his gun, Akira’s mind goes into overdrive. He didn’t think Goro would launch his plan so soon, but—

The dead-serious look in his scarlet eyes throws the phantom thief off. 

It doesn’t turn out like he thought it would, though. Instead, they fight; the detective doesn’t pull his punches or his magic, and he doesn’t expect Akira to do it either. In fact, his desire to understand the other boy drives him. 

Because there’s a lot more to Goro Akechi than the traitor. He might be a victim too and Joker will do anything to save him.

Unbeknownst to his teammates, sometimes Joker’s reasons behind his actions are a little more selfish than they thought. 

The skirmish gets a bit out of hand, to the point where they exhaust the magic from their Personas and resort only to their weapons and fists. Still, they go all out, permeating each other with cuts and bruises, even when their knuckles ache and bleed. Eventually, Crow pins Joker to the dark floor of Mementos, face pressed to the distortion and fingers matted on his unruly hair. With one arm painfully twisted and pulled up and the other pinned to his back by Crow’s knee, Joker meets his defeat.

“I win.” Crow declares and Joker can _see_ the triumphant grin on his charming face without looking. 

“I don’t think so.”

In the blink of an eye, Joker turns the tables; he lifts his leg and folds it around Crow’s waist. Then he pulls and drags the detective prince to the floor, rolling until he straddles his hips, draws his gun and points it at Crow’s face swiftly. 

“Checkmate,” Joker pants with his own grin, pushing his mask up to the crown of his head, “You let your guard down when you get too confident.”

Crow grits his teeth, clearly displeased with the outcome, “So you’re flexible too, huh. I see.”

Joker exhales and holsters his gun, “We’ve been here too long. We should leave.” He stands up, using Crow’s chest as support, and offers his hand.

But Crow doesn’t accept. With a frustrated howl, he tackles Joker back to the floor with one hand around his throat while the other rips off his red mask. 

Joker grunts the moment he hits the ground and his fingers coil around Crow’s wrist on impulse, “Goro—?”

 _Is this it?_ Joker thought, but instead of the lack of air, he feels something warm on his lips. 

“Haven’t you learned anything?” Crow mutters against his lips, biting hard to replace his name with a delightful yelp, “You’re not supposed to say my name here, no matter how much I want to hear it from you.”

Instead of questioning the detective or fighting back against his advances, Akira melts into the crazed kiss. It’s rough and messy, but it’s everything the leader of the Phantom Thieves wanted since the day they met. He allows Crow to manipulate his head to his whim, to ravish his mouth and pull him apart, and welcomes him when he feels teeth tugging on his lips, demanding entrance. He moans as Crow licks inside and does whatever he wants with him. He teases and drives him a little mad; Crow bites and sucks on his tongue, strokes his mushy walls, and takes his breath away. The hand around Joker’s neck tightens and tilts his head, giving Crow more room to leave teeth dents and blemishes on his neck while the other hand slides down the curve of his waist and creeps inside his dark garb. 

Joker gasps at the intimate touch and arches into it, feeling the pleasure bristling his skin and pooling hotly under his navel, and later stiffening into an unbearable arousal. 

“Goro—”

The ace detective seals his lips hard for the second time, mumbling something about him being an idiot while he gropes the shivering body under him to his heart’s content; up and down his waist, his hips, belly and navel, and lastly, his crotch, where Crow fondles his bulge. Joker whines and spreads his legs on a whim, fingers knotting on Crow’s rebellious clothes to pull him down and grind their bodies, craving more friction and heat from him.

Crow complies; he releases Joker’s neck to hold his legs in the most appropriate position to grind hard on him—or as good as it could be in such a place. They groan and hiss whenever they press too hard on a wound, but neither make a move to break the long kiss. 

Grinding isn’t enough for either, however. Driven by the adrenaline left from the battle, Crow spins Joker around and pushes him chest-flat to the floor.

“Do your thing.” Is the only thing Crow says and Joker quickly understands. He removes the glove from his hand, pushes his pants down to his knees, and licks his own fingers thoroughly before shoving two between his asscheeks.

It’s not the first time they’ve done it like this. Akira takes his chances whenever he’s alone with the detective without caring about _where_ they’re doing it. He spreads himself quickly as usual, scissoring and sawing, and bites his arm to smother the pants and groans into his own skin. He makes sure to give Crow the best view too.

“No need for that,” Crow seizes his hair and pulls his head up, “It’s just us here. You can moan like the bitch you are as much as you want.” And Joker whines in response to those despotic words.

“Right,” He pants, “I’d love a hand though.”

“Really?”

“Please.” Joker begs. 

Crow licks his lips and takes off his gloves too with his teeth, “Of course you do.” He wedges two fingers inside Joker’s mouth, who licks and sucks on them before Crow crams them into his body.

Joker props his chin on his arm to moan loudly as the detective opens him up. He finds it freeing after keeping shut before and Crow seems to be enjoying it too, the obscene sound motivating the twisting and thrusting of his fingers until Joker is good enough to go.

Crow straightens up and undos the lower part of his attire before looming over Joker’s body to whisper filthily into his ear: “Ready? It’s going to hurt.”

It’s not the first time Crow has penetrated him more dry than lubricated. Whenever they met up by chance in school or on their way home, there wasn’t time to buy anything. This time, however, with fresh wounds and nothing to hold onto, the experience is completely new. Joker cries out and he’s glad he at least has an abundance of space to scream into as Crow impales him to the hilt. 

And he doesn’t waste time either. He’s merciless and unbridled as he rolls his hips, pulling out to thrust back in deeper, hitting the thief right where it feels best. Mementos distorts even more in front of him, eyes bustling with tears of pain—the kind that has nothing to do with the wounds—and pleasure, a mere stitch over a larger cut. He has no control of his body, lurching back and forth, or what comes out of his mouth, moans and breathless utterances of Crow’s name until he comes all over Mementos’ distorted ground. The feel of Crow’s nail cutting his skin, the feel of his cock twitching and filling him up, and the slap of his hips against his hind drags out the orgasm until their bodies turn to goop and collapse at each other’s side. 

They don’t have time to bask in each other’s warmth, however, not with the distant sound of chains being dragged across the floor. 

“We need to leave. Now.” Says Crow, preening to swathe his belt around his waist before offering Joker his hand.

Face burning and hands sweating, Joker pulls his pants back up and takes Crow’s hand, allowing the detective prince to help him to his feet and drag him out of the Metaverse.

The next second he blinks, they’re at Station Square, still covered in bruises and sweating through their uniforms. Neither says a word for the first few minutes, but standing there quietly staring at each other only draws more attention to them. Goro realizes this and breaks the ice. In the end, they promise each other a rematch and Akira treasures Goro’s glove in his pocket.

“Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“Wait, um...,” Akira bites his lip and hisses, “Come to my place. We can patch each other up and…”

“I can do that myself, thank you.”

“Don’t be so stubborn. The others are probably at home right now and I know Morgana’s waiting for me in my room. The shop’s closed so we can use the bathroom,” Akira insists, “Let me help you.”

Goro silently watches him, counting the bruises and cuts with a worry he couldn’t hide from Akira’s eyes. Sighing, he finally caves in. 

“Alright, fine. Let’s go.”

Akira tries not to show his enthusiasm as they take the train to Yongen-Jaya. Inside, they manage to find two empty, adjacent seats. The ride is quiet and the phantom thief can barely keep his eyes open or his pounding head straight. Eventually, he sways and hits Goro’s shoulder, dozing off almost immediately. After a moment, he feels a weight on his head and a familiar warmth enveloping him.

The thief drowns in the sensation, wallowing in it for as long as he can until the subway announcer announces the arrival to their destination.

Akira double checks the cafe before entering as quietly as he can, beckoning Goro to get in after him with a tilt of his head. He already texted Sojiro that he would be arriving a little later than usual and promised that he’d close up the second he arrived, which is exactly what he does before shutting himself in the bathroom with Goro.

They sit on the toilet’s lid facing each other with alcohol, towelettes, and stitches between them. 

Akira volunteers, taking the first napkin and soaking it with alcohol before dabbing at Goro’s lacerated cheek. He grimaces and flinches, but warms up to Akira’s gentle touch after a few strokes. The thief opens his mouth to apologize, but Goro presses one finger to his lips and shuts him up.

“Save it.”

Akira smiles and pecks Goro’s finger, “I… got a little too into it.”

“I didn’t want it any other way,” Says Goro, looking down at his red knuckles, “I wanted you to go all out.”

“I know. I felt the same, you know.”

Goro raises an eyebrow and parts his lips, but what comes out of his mouth is a hiss as Akira puts weight over the bruise on his jaw.

“A lot’s expected of me too and seeing you beating me at everything… I wanted to test myself out against you,” Akira bites his split lip, “You’re a natural in combat. You analyze your surroundings and adapt so fast I can’t keep up with you.”

Goro doesn’t reply and quietly observes as Akira works with his face, slowly sliding down to clean his neck.

“I try anyway. I tell myself it’s for the team’s sake, but honestly?” Akira’s eyes trace the span of Akechi’s collarbone, a good distraction from the heat that crawls up his neck, “I really just want to look good for you. I try my hardest to impress you because I want to be your equal, to be by your side.”

Goro makes a face and looks away, as if he couldn’t believe what he’s hearing.

“You’re so amazing, Goro, I’m jealous of _you._ You have the brains, the skills, the looks and…,” Akira’s fingers stop by the detective’s lips, “I love all of it.”

At this, a bittersweet smile twists Goro’s lips. The luster in his eyes, however, tells Akira that he really wanted to hear that, “How can you say that? You don’t know me at all.”

“Maybe. But I want to.”

“Is that so?” Goro furrows his brows, “You might regret it.”

Akira shakes his head, “If you think that, then you don’t know me either.”

Goro’s eyes narrow further.

“We’ve been having a lot of fun, but I want you to know I meant what I said,” Akira stares at the detective earnestly, “To the last letter.”

Goro grits his eyes and screws his eyes shut, “Damn you. Shut up and let me fix you already.” He snatches another towelette and dips it in alcohol before squeezing it hard against the bruise on the crown of Akira’s head.

The thief yelps and closes one eye on impulse. Stars dance before him and he sways again.

“Sorry,” Goro mumbles and sighs, pressing gently with guilt in his striking eyes, “You shouldn’t say those things to someone who...,” A pause, “... someone like me.”

“I already spoke my mind. I’m not taking anything back.”

“And you say I’m stubborn.”

Akira smiles brightly, “I just stick to what I really feel,” Then he leans in until their foreheads and eyes connect, “And I love you, Goro.”

For a brief moment of vulnerability, Goro breaks out in tears and cries quietly into Akira’s chest. The thief doesn’t say anything, not with his mouth at least. He holds the detective’s shaking body tightly against his own until he feels him going still.

“Goro…?” Akira calls softly, careful with his next words, “It doesn’t have to end like you planned it to. We can stay and fight together. There’s… someone you resent, isn’t there? And you want to make them pay, right?”

No response. Only the stillness and weight of Goro’s body. 

“Let me help you too. You don’t have to do everything on your own,” Akira insists in a quivering breath, “Just... think about it. I’ll wait for your answer the day before sending the calling card.”

Of course, he doesn’t get an answer right away. Goro lifts his head, cheeks a little tear-stained and eyes puffy yet calculating. Akira takes the chance to kiss his lips, taking the ace detective slightly by surprise before returning it. It’s different this time; more gentle and sincere. They move slowly, but passionately and it tastes so sweet Akira’s eyes saturate. When they part and he sees Goro in the same state, he smiles fondly. 

“I should go,” Says Goro after one look at his watch, “I seem to have a lot to think about.”

“Whatever you decide to do,” Akira stands up and takes Goro’s hands. Their fingers interweave perfectly, “I want you to remember I’ll always love you and that whatever happens,” Then he pulls out Akechi’s glove from his pocket with his free hand and squeezes it, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Goro closes his eyes and keeps the tears at bay before walking out. Akira follows him all the way outside, sharing one final kiss before they split up.

Still holding the glove, Akira brings it to his face and closes his eyes.

“I know you’ll pull through.”

* * *

Weeks later, on the day before the fated battle, Goro visits LeBlanc and asks for a meeting with the Phantom Thieves. There, he comes clean. Based on Akira’s words the last time they met, he figured out the thieves had built a countermeasure against his plan and realized he had no chances of winning, but swore that he would win the fight against Shido—his father. 

“I knew you’d do it,” Driven by his emotions, Akira crosses the threshold in a few strides to kiss the detective full on the lips, arms worming around his neck and chests pressed. Then he remembers they were in the middle of a meeting and pulls back, blushing from ear to ear, “Oh crap.”

Goro stays rooted to the spot, his face a reflection of Akira’s.

“I’ll, uh… explain later.” Says Akira to the others before resuming the meeting.

Then finally, together, they take down the anointed Prime Minister.


End file.
